


apodyopis

by grandstander



Category: RWBY
Genre: M/M, just a touch nsfw but it only hints at it so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-20
Updated: 2014-08-20
Packaged: 2018-02-13 22:44:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2167956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grandstander/pseuds/grandstander
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Apodyopis: the act of mentally undressing someone</p>
            </blockquote>





	apodyopis

Jaune’s… cute, in retrospect. People usually have attributes that place them in such categories; their behavior, their looks, their quirks. Jaune’s someone that people would commonly place somewhere along the lines of cute, like a puppy or a boy you’d have a high school crush on. 

When someone falls in love, they usually see the person in their god-given light, and then it becomes something like a kaleidoscope, a million different lights shining on them from the sun and the moon and the stars. Jaune’s cute, sure, but he’s also— well, it’s something Cardin wouldn’t say aloud, but he’s beautiful, especially when he’s passionate or when that spitfire look burns in his eyes when he trains and fights. He’s gorgeous when he’s in naught but his skin, light burning against a pale peach and his chest swells with breath. He’s gorgeous and lovely and every other disgustingly affection term when he unravels and his lips are swollen, red patches marked against his body and his words broken in his mouth. 

He usually wears something simple, or something Cardin would call dorky. Jaune likes graphic t-shirts, ones that look loose and like they’re a size too big. He has on one now, sitting next to Cardin and bent forward over the table, hair a disheveled mess as always. It’s always such a mess, though Cardin vaguely recalls how much worse it gets— or can get it. His jaw clenches, forcing himself to reiterate his course of thought while Jaune slouches against him, head knocking against his shoulder. 

The larger of the two turns, watching him for a moment, stares at Jaune’s lips and he considers kissing him, but he keeps still (painfully so). Jaune sighs, sitting up, and staring at his hand-held while Cardin steals glances out of the corner of his eyes and he can see Jaune’s collarbone above the neckline of his shirt. One thought leads to another, and he can see the full expanse of it from memory alone, and he wants to run his mouth along it, wants to press his hands to the blond’s bare hips and pin the blond down. 

He can see Jaune beneath him almost as clearly as he can feel the boy against his arm, he can see him gasping and hands curling into sheets while his thighs tremble. Jaune’s intoxicating when he’s breaking apart like that, goofiness and smiles all well and good of course, but it’s something else when his voice cracks and shakes when he says “Cardin," in a hushed voice. Cardin can see him like this in his head, as clear as day, his skin flushed and burning, cheeks a blossoming red and his chest rising and falling when broken sounds leave him. The taller boy can feel him shaking just slightly when his palms are pressed to the inside of his thighs, can hear him moan and quiver when his breath and mouth graze over his hips. 

Cardin nearly jumps when Jaune actually speaks, and it’s like cold water against his burning skin, and his face grows red, hand quickly moving to cover his mouth and cheeks as he looks away. 

“Are you alrigh—” 

“I’m fine.”


End file.
